


Gotcha Day

by skiron



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Altean Culture (Voltron), Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skiron/pseuds/skiron
Summary: The catalyst for Team Voltron adopting a dog might be an offhand demand from Lance, but let's be real: several of them are very much on board with this plan.Written as part of Gentron Week 2020 as a combination of the prompts "Adopting a Pet Together" and "Cultural Exchange", intwothree parts
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26
Collections: Gentronweek





	1. Chapter 1

“Listen, Kaltenecker needs a puppy friend,” Lance says one evening. Keith blinks and props himself up on his elbows from where he’s been lying on the couch. He turns his head toward where Lance is sitting on the floor, trying to remember if there was any context for this in previous conversation, but he doesn’t think so. All five paladins are in the lounge, which seems to be why Lance has brought it up, despite the fact that he and Pidge are currently deeply engaged in some kind of fighting game with tiny laser-blasting spaceships. If it were a bit more realistic, it might be good flight training for the lions, Keith thinks. 

“Does she?” asks Pidge, pressing a few buttons in such quick succession that Keith has no idea what they were. Glancing at the screen, he’s not sure what they did, either. 

“Of course she does,” Lance says, not looking up from the screen in front of him. His fingers still moving rapidly on the controller in his hands, he continues. “Who among us has experience with bovine needs? Me, I do. Who among us can read her body language and tell you what those needs are? Me, I can. Therefore, I can tell you: she needs a puppy friend.” 

“And this would have nothing to do with you wanting a puppy for yourself,” Keith says flatly, sitting up all the way now. This might be interesting. 

“Definitely not,” Lance agrees, sticking his tongue halfway out of his mouth and holding his controller to one side as his ship on the screen executes some kind of quick maneuver around Pidge’s. 

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea,” Shiro says mildly from a couch across the way. He’s still looking down at whatever he’s been reading on his tablet. Keith isn’t sure if it’s the tone in Shiro’s voice that gives him away or if he’s just remembering all the times he heard Shiro talk about getting a dog back at the Garrison, but it sure seems like he thinks it’s a better idea than just not terrible. 

“You planning on raising this puppy yourself?” Pidge asks, skeptical. 

“I’m planning on all of us raising this puppy together,” says Lance decisively, and apparently he’s equally decisive in-game, because there’s a trilling victory sound from the screen in front of them and Pidge’s shoulders drop before she hits a few buttons on her controller. 

“Rematch,” she says, and Lance nods. 

“I don’t know, raising a puppy is a lot of work.” Hunk’s voice is thoughtful, but it’s clear his mind is only half on this conversation. He hasn’t looked away from the small white devices in front of him that he’s been working on for the better part of an hour. 

“Seems like you should talk to Coran,” says Shiro, still excessively calm. “Seems like he’d be best equipped to handle the situation.”

“You don’t think I can handle one puppy?” Lance asks sharply, looking up from the screen for half a second just to direct a glare at Shiro. 

“Oh, handling the puppy won’t be the problem.” Shiro grins, and Keith huffs a small laugh to himself. 

“Of course it won’t,” says Lance irritably, this time still zipping his little ship around the screen, tongue out to one side again in concentration. “I can handle a puppy in my sleep -- I could handle puppies, plural, in my sleep.” Keith snorts at that, remembering a foster he had who raised a new puppy while he lived there.

“I’m pretty sure sleep _loss_ is part of the deal,” he says before he can stop himself. Not that he would want to -- Lance can’t just be spouting inaccuracies when they’re talking about bringing in a whole-ass animal they’ll be responsible for. 

“It’s a figure of speech, pal.” He would probably be more irritated if he weren’t mid-game, but Pidge seems to be gaining the upper hand and all his focus is on that. Shiro clears his throat before continuing. 

“What I was saying is that Coran would know where we could go about finding a puppy out here -- in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly in a position to visit the humane society or research a local breeder or anything. Coran could probably figure out where to go and give us some idea of what kind of, uh, dog we could really even hope of finding.” 

“That’s fair,” offers Hunk. “We don’t want to end up with some weird alien puppy without even any guidance from someone who’s, like, familiar with at least a reasonable variety of weird alien puppies.” 

“You got me there,” says Lance, and Keith is puzzled by the irritation in his tone until he realizes Lance is talking about his match with Pidge, who has dropped her controller and leaned back on her hands swinging her knees a little side to side and looking very pleased with herself. 

“I sure did,” she says, grinning. “Best two of three?” 

“Definitely.” Lance hasn’t even put his controller down, and waits for her to pick hers up again before apparently starting a rematch. “Anyway -- that makes sense, but as you all can see, I’m occupied, and can’t go ask him, so…?” He trails off, raising his eyebrows, even though he’s still looking determinedly at the screen instead of around at any of them. Keith snorts. 

“You expect someone to go running off to talk to him right now?” he asks derisively. Sometimes, it sure does seem like Lance thinks he runs the world. 

“Uh, I think someone is,” says Hunk, nodding toward the doorway, where Shiro is standing midstep, looking back at the rest of them with his eyebrows raised, as if he paused only when Keith spoke up. 

“Yeah, I’ve got this, guys,” he says. “It seems like I’m the best person to talk to him anyway, considering I’m the --” 

“-- fearless leader, space dad, you speak for the trees, et cetera, et cetera,” says Hunk, nodding as he turns back to his work.

“Pretty sure I speak for the trees at this point,” Pidge puts in, fingers still moving quickly over her controls, eyes on the screen.

“I was going to say I’m the responsible adult, but fair enough,” Shiro says, shrugging, and turns back to walk out into the hall, presumably to find Coran. 

“Well, okay then,” Keith says softly, and lies down again, since apparently that’s settled. 

\--

As they walk into the main hall of the recollection center, Keith has the creeping feeling he’s been here before. It takes him a moment to place it. The decor is different, for one thing: all sleek white couches and light blue accents. But as Coran leads them past several doors with large windows on either side and large signs written in glowing Altean script, it hits him that this place reminds him of the space mall where they found the replacement scaltrite lenses. 

“...it’s changed a bit, of course,” Coran is saying as they make their way down the corridor, navigating around small groups of various humanoid and non-humanoid creatures. Most of them are aliens Keith can’t identify, but he does see a few olkari families, and at one point someone who’s clearly a member of Slav’s species. “But the general principles are the same -- I got in touch with my Unilu contacts and they redirected me to the Venri contingent -- ever since the recollection center split off from the original swap moon, they’ve been in charge of running it here -- and they sent the new coordinates.” 

“So, what is this place exactly? Where are the dogs?” Lance asks, looking around as if puppies might start spilling out of the doorways around them at any moment. 

“It’s not just full of dogs, Lance,” Keith says, shaking his head. “Weren’t you listening when Coran went over all of this? Recollection as in they collect everything living that isn’t where it’s supposed to be and offer it up for trade, like -- like that space mall, apparently, but for things that are like...alive.” 

“Essentially, yes!” Coran says enthusiastically, gesturing around them at the whole of the space as they make their way toward the end of the row of storefronts. “Plants and fungi and animals of all sorts, from various corners of the universe, all collected here for redistribution! Apparently as the swap moon became more commercialized, they needed a space like this, one where some more...specialized shopkeepers could maintain living things. They also seem to have kept its location -- and its mere existence -- under wraps, which is especially good for us. We don’t exactly want to advertise to the empire that we’re active in any area they’re in.”

“If they’re trying to keep organisms alive from all sorts of different environments, they’ll need a lot of energy,” Shiro says. Keith glances over at him to see he’s stopped walking, frowning off into the middle distance. “And yet they’re keeping the place a secret? They must have a quintessence supply that’s off the charts.” 

“Oh, yes,” says Coran, his own step faltering as he turns to reply. “There’s a whole board of managers whose job it is to keep quintessence coming in and keep everything secret.” 

“It’s not that secret, though, if we found out where it is.” 

“I -- well, not everyone has the contacts I have!” Coran finishes with a smile, though Keith thinks there’s definitely something forced in his tone. “Besides, that’s why we’ve got the others back at the castle monitoring things from their end. We should be fine.” Shiro nods slowly, still frowning, and they start making their way toward the end of the corridor again. 

“Should be,” Keith mutters, following at the back of the group. The whole place feels a bit shiftier than it did before. 

\--

“How exactly are we supposed to be setting up some kind of animal nursery when we don’t have any idea what kind of thing they’re going to be bringing back?” Hunk’s question echoes through the open air of the room Allura’s led them into. It’s bare, for the most part, easily the size of a small warehouse, with a ceiling just as high. Katie frowns -- that concern echoes the thoughts she’s been having ever since Coran suggested they prepare for the new arrival. Arrival of what? 

“Oh, well, there are things we’ll need no matter what!” Allura says brightly. “And if nothing else, we can start worrying about the basics -- they’ll need light, well, unless they end up with a cave-dweller, and food...unless it’s something that photosynthesizes, in which case we’re back at the light…” She trails off, frowning. “Well, we can start with decor, at least! Pick a color scheme!” Hunk is looking at her blankly, and Katie blinks, realizing she’s doing the same. Shakes it off. 

“We can work on putting together a system with adjustable outputs,” she offers, grinning at a relieved Allura. “It’ll be fun,” she continues, bumping against Hunk’s elbow with her shoulder. “Try to figure out what kind of nutrient combinations we can manage in different states of matter -- Allura, do you have any idea of what kind of thing they’re most likely to bring back? If we have a starting point, we could probably actually manage a number of contingencies for different energy sources, feeding behaviors, oxygenation needs…” Allura nods quickly. 

“I can get you a list, absolutely. I’m sure there are only four or five species Coran would be comfortable with, although there’s no accounting for the others, and of course we don’t know what the center will have --” 

“-- just get us those four or five,” Katie says, looking around the room and trying to imagine how they’ll divide the space. “Hunk, we’re gonna need to start talking construction.” 

\--

“As you can see, we have a wide variety of domestic creatures available at the moment, though not many specimens of each.” The Venri staff member leading them through the facility glides across the floor on six neatly-swishing tentacles. She speaks in clean clipped tones, which Keith appreciates for their clarity if nothing else. He’s a bit impressed she can project as loudly as she can considering she barely comes up to his waist, but apparently Venri are small but have mighty lung capacity, or something. In any case, the others seem to be more interested in the fenced-off runs they’re surrounded by, each containing a different sort of creature. 

Some of the enclosures have small ponds, or are small ponds, as in the case of one containing some kind of aquatic animal that looks a lot like a bat, or like a bat would if it were scaled instead of furred, with enormous fins instead of wings. Others of the cages look a lot more like ordinary dog runs -- and, to be fair, others of the creatures look a lot more like ordinary dogs. There’s one like a whippy all-black german shepherd in the corner whose eyes keep emitting some kind of pink smoke in little bursts. In one of the stacked cages for smaller creatures that they pass, right at Keith’s eye level, is a group of labrador retrievers in perfect miniature, so small he could hold three of them in the palm of his hand, emitting little play growls as they wrestle with their fellows. He watches them for a while, wondering what it would be like to have a pocket-sized pup, until he realizes the others are halfway across the row of runs, the Venri indicating various creatures as she continues her pitch. He half-jogs over to rejoin them. 

“Now, did you all have a particular species in mind? If you’d like, you’re welcome to tell me about your living situation -- whatever it may be -- and I can recommend one for you.” She looks around at the four of them expectantly. Keith looks from Coran to Shiro and back again. It’s definitely not his place to take the lead here. But it’s Lance who jumps in. 

“Oh, we’ve got quite a bit of space,” he says airily. “That’s certainly not an issue. We’re hoping to get a puppy who will get along with our cow, maybe give her some companionship, cultivate that interspecies friendship and all that.” The Venri's eyes grow wider and wider as Lance continues. “After all, what’s the point of a dairy cow without a puppy, you know?” 

“A...did you say a dairy cow? Where did you say you’re from again?” 

“We didn’t,” says Shiro, taking a well-placed step so he’s standing between the Venri and Lance. 

“We’re looking for something in the canine category,” says Coran brightly, gesturing toward the row of runs that includes the shadowy german shepherd, now crouching near the front of its run and emitting glittery aqua smoke from its mouth as it looks at them silently with solid black eyes. 

“Do you have a particular biome in mind?” The Venri looks up at him expectantly, holding one thin hand over her tablet, ready to type. 

“Oh, I rather think --” Coran cuts off suddenly, eyes wide and fixed on one of the runs. Keith follows his eyeline and sees a small furry brown shape curled up in the corner, covered in little white speckles. Whatever the creature is, it’s tucked itself firmly against the wall of its enclosure, so he can’t really discern anything about its shape, nor why it seems to have grabbed Coran’s attention so strongly. 

“Coran?” Shiro asks, frowning. Lance, meanwhile, is darting his eyes back and forth between the brown lump and Coran, eyebrows lowered sharply. Keith sees him open his mouth to say something -- probably a strong objection to anyone else getting to pick their puppy -- and knocks into him with his shoulder, muttering a “shush” under his breath. Lance huffs once at him, but shuts his mouth. 

“Is that a white-spotted hyrassie?” Coran breathes quietly after what feels like an eternity of silence.

“Oh, absolutely,” says the Venri, and she’s smiling for the first time since they’ve entered the runs.


	2. Chapter 2

“Pidge, I think you’re right that with the couplings we have already, we’re only going to be able to use a few different compounds. Luckily there’s already basic water and whatever those sediments from the ‘downfalls’ are, so we should be pretty safe for now, at least according to Allura’s list.” Hunk frowns down at his tablet, where he’s been looking up the various creatures Allura included in her recommendations. “Like, we mainly only need to plan for Earthlike or Altean-like environments, unless they come back with something really out there.” 

“This is only for the water system anyway,” Katie points out from her position on the floor. She’s removed a panel of wall to get to the pipes they’ve got leading into the area of the room they’ve designated as a potential liquid environment. “The air supply in here should be fine, assuming they don’t bring something in from like, the floating trash dump. Actually,” she stops herself and frowns. “Well, that’s a bad example, because obviously my caterpillars are doing fine.” 

“Sure, but maybe there’s a different floating trash dump with different concentrations of things that has particularly cute creatures that Lance’ll be unable to resist,” says Hunk pointedly. Katie can’t help but laugh a bit at that. 

“It’s not totally up to Lance, though.” No matter what he thinks, she adds silently. Whatever Hunk might have to say to that is cut off by the door whooshing open behind them. The two of them turn in unison to see Coran standing triumphantly in the doorway, holding a furry brown lump in his arms. Those of the rest of them who accompanied him to the recollection center are behind him, Keith looking a bit apprehensive, Shiro cautiously enthusiastic, and Lance downright murderous. 

“Well, how are things going in here?” Coran asks brightly, seemingly immune to the daggers Lance is telepathically launching at him. “Seems it’s time for you both to meet our new addition!” 

Hunk is already at the doorway peering down at the creature, and Katie finds herself not far behind. It’s about the size of a retriever puppy, but that and the fact it’s furred are pretty much the only similarities she can see. It’s tucked its head into the space between Coran’s arm and his body, but despite that she can clearly see that its jumble of limbs and tail (tails?) is made up of more pieces than she would have expected. 

“What is it?” Katie asks, frowning. 

“It’s a white-spotted hyrassie,” says Hunk nervously. “Allura did include them on her list, technically, but she thought they’d all died out...” He trails off, looking down at the hyrassie anxiously.

“They’re exceedingly rare these days -- they were everywhere before the war,” Coran’s voice is a strange mix of excitement and sadness. “I can hardly believe we found one! It must be nearly the last of its kind --” 

“It is also practically a wild animal” Hunk interrupts in turn, putting a hand out in front of him as if to put it on Coran’s shoulder and then apparently thinking better of it. “Even if some people on Altea did keep them as pets.” 

“Well, sure,” says Coran, his smile faltering for the first time since the door opened. “But isn’t any wild animal just a pet you haven’t domesticated yet?” 

“Yes, but usually that’s a fairly long process,” Katie says. Like, centuries long. Millenia even. What is he _thinking?_

“And it’s been a fairly long time since the last time I met one, what with the whole cryopod situation,” says Coran pointedly, and apparently she and Hunk both agree there’s not much they can say to that. “Besides, even back when we were on Altea, plenty of people kept them.”

“What part of ‘let’s get a dog’ led you to a furry beetle from the planet weird?” Lance might not be the most elegant wordsmith, but Katie has to agree that this isn’t exactly what she pictured when they said ‘dog.’ Now that she’s had a second to parse the tangled limbs, she can make out six legs and two fluffy tails -- admittedly, all of them furred and reasonably dog-looking, except for the fact that the legs have...

“...hooves?” she asks. They might be three separate ones on each foot, but they’re definitely hooves. Coran looks back and forth between her and Lance, a bit out of his depth. 

“Listen, guys, I couldn’t -- I couldn’t leave her there. She’s Altean, just as Altean as Allura and me. I couldn’t just…” He trails off, and Katie’s pretty sure she sees tears in his eyes, which he blinks away, looking at the ceiling, his arms tightening a bit around the creature, who grumbles in response.

“Right,” Shiro says. “None of us were expecting this, not even Coran --” he looks to the Altean, who nods, but doesn’t try to say anything further “-- but, well, we’ve got her now, and we may as well make the best of it, right? Besides, she’s pretty cute.” He smiles, a little sheepishly, and reaches over to scratch the back of the hyrassie lightly, eliciting a small sound of discomfort that reminds Katie of Bae Bae whining to be let outside. The animal slowly raises its head, turning to face Shiro with big jewel-bright blue eyes, slit-pupiled like a cat’s. Its ears are decidedly wolflike, though, with small tufts of white fur at their tips that match the spots across its back. It yawns, opening its chisel-shaped snout to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth and a bright pink tongue, before closing it again and blinking. 

Teeth aside, Katie has to admit it is pretty cute. Still, she’s surprised when Shiro reaches his hand -- the left one, still -- out toward the creature’s muzzle, stopping just a few inches short of its mouth. None of the others move as it snuffles through its jet-black nose, investigating. It wiggles in Coran’s arms until its tails -- yes, tails, two of them, Katie notes -- are free to wag enthusiastically, slapping against Coran’s arm with some force if the grimace on his face is any indication. 

“Hunk, you said they’re wild?” she asks, eyebrows drawn. “This one doesn’t seem to be all that wild.” 

“People kept them on Altea, sure, but they were kept like, outside,” Hunk says.

“They used to guard the fields for farmers,” Coran says proudly, moving one of his arms so he can pat the hyrassie on its back. It whips its head around, surprised, and practically has its teeth on his hand before it seems to stop itself and let out a whine again, one which sounds less doglike and more eerie when it’s not muffled. The hyrassie sniffs at his hand instead, and eventually lowers its head so it’s covering the part of its back he touched. “Bit skittish, I guess,” Coran mutters, tucking his hand back under to support it. 

“You probably touched its spike plates,” says Hunk.

“Its _what?_ ” Lance’s face is flushed, and Katie’s amazed he hasn’t burst before now, beetle comment aside.

“Its spike plates,” Hunk repeats, laying a hand on Lance’s arm without looking away from the hyrassie. He traces the spine of the animal, hovering a finger above it so he’s not touching it directly, and giving a particularly wide berth to its head. “They’ve got them all along here -- they’re a retractable defense and intimidation feature, and I’m sure hers are still growing in, so they’re probably pretty painful.” 

“Hers?” That’s Keith, head tilted to one side and eyebrows furrowed as he frowns at Hunk. Katie blinks, realizing they have been mostly referring to it as a she. 

“Yep! She’s a she -- or, well, we’d call her a she, anyway.” Hunk nods at Keith. 

“How--?” Katie doesn’t finish her question, but she doesn’t have to. 

“The eyes,” Hunk says, gesturing vaguely. “Males have all-black ones, even as babies. At least, that’s what the info sheet said.” He looks at Coran for confirmation, who nods. 

“My cousin Ira had three of them,” he says, a smile slowly coming back to his face. “All males. Pretty nice to have this sapphire-eyed little girl for ourselves, really.” His voice goes all sappy at the end, and Katie sighs. 

“Alright, well, the good news is she’s one of the ones we planned for, I guess,” she concedes. 

“The bad news is she doesn’t have a name,” Shiro points out, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. “Seems like we should get her one of those.” 

“We could wait for Allura,” says Hunk. “I’d hope everyone could be involved --” 

“--I get to name her,” Lance interrupts sharply, looking back at Coran. Hunk’s hand is still on his arm, but the only effect it seems to be having is that he’s not shouting. He still looks only a couple degrees shy of murderous. “It was my idea for us to get a dog, and you’ve already killed that dream dead in the streets, so at the very least I get to name her.” Katie looks around at the others, only to see they’re as nonplussed as she is. 

“O...kay,” says Shiro finally. “That seems...fair.” 

“There was a tradition on Altea that they were named after the fields they guarded,” Coran begins. “It made it more straightforward for the farmers to manage them, and we don’t have to go in that direction, of course, but --” 

“--her name’s Turnip,” Lance says firmly. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, the translation software didn’t -- can anyone -- ?” Coran looks around helplessly. 

“It’s a root vegetable,” Katie says. 

“Ah, well then that’s quite a fitting moniker for the little lady!” Coran smiles, and even the corners of Lance’s mouth turn up a little bit. 

\--

Shiro and Coran head to the bridge to check in with Allura and communicate with their contacts back on Olkarion, leaving Keith and the other paladins to tend to the newest castle resident. Once Turnip gets over her initial discomfort -- and once they all know not to get too close to touching her developing spike plates -- the hyrassie pup is incredibly demanding of their attention. 

Hunk is all too eager to share everything he’s learned from reading about hyrassie care, including that Turnip will be perfectly happy on a diet of the regular food goo with added yalmor fat from the pantry kitchen, provided they find things for her to chew. 

“With her teeth, she definitely needs some crunch,” he says, frowning as he swipes through information on his tablet. “I can probably come up with some good recipes for treats and some kind of dental stick thing for her, but in the meantime, we should get some chew toys together…”

“Oh, Shiro bought a bunch of those back at the recollection center,” Keith says, glad to have something to contribute. “I’m pretty sure he picked up everything that Venri lady recommended.” Which, he remembers, was a lot. 

The good news, Keith thinks, is that they basically have an outdoor environment indoors, thanks to Hunk and Pidge’s work to make Turnip’s deck liveable. Now that she’s more comfortable around them, the hyrassie turns out to be a curious and relatively adventurous pup, exploring every corner of her deck thoroughly, except for the water tank, which she eyes suspiciously before dipping just one hoofed foot in at the edge. She lifts her foot and shakes it, sprinkling drops back across the surface of the water, and backs up from it. 

“You could swim, girl!” Lance says. “Come on, Turnip, it’s fun!” He splashes the water a bit with his hands, but she just growls slightly and retreats, bumping into Hunk, who picks her up and scratches her ears soothingly. 

The bad news, it turns out, is that she seems to be made of velcro, and is not interested in being in her deck alone during the day, whining loudly if they try to leave her there. They bring her to the lounge with them, instead, so that at least she’s in an enclosed space where they can keep an eye on her. Hunk and Lance -- the latter with a bit of prodding from the former -- volunteer to take her back to her deck to pee regularly throughout the day, which leaves Keith and Pidge free enough. Allura stops in to meet her as the afternoon rolls into evening, arriving at the lounge wide-eyed and excited. 

“Coran said you found a hyrassie?” She starts speaking as soon as the door slides open, and the pup -- Turnip, Keith reminds himself -- bounds over to her from where she’s been playing tug with Hunk on the floor. He takes the opportunity to inspect the toy they’ve been playing with, frowning at the parts of it that don’t seem to be surviving her remarkably sharp teeth. “Oh, what a sweetheart,” Allura coos, rubbing the sides of Turnip’s face as she lets out a sort of hum that seems to be contentment, both tails wagging furiously. 

Overall, it’s a reasonably relaxing afternoon, considering they’ve just voluntarily brought an alien creature aboard. Yes, Turnip goes after the video game cords, which throws Lance into a frenzy of trying to build makeshift protections to block them off. Yes, there’s a point when she’s zooming around the lounge to burn off extra energy. Yes, during this time, she takes a flying leap directly onto Keith’s stomach where he’s lying on the couch, knocking all the wind out of him with six small hooves at once. Yes, he’s pretty sure it’ll bruise. But she also runs after her toys in a way that’s remarkably adorable, all six limbs too excited to be quite as coordinated as he’s pretty sure she could be. She sniffs happily at their hands and lets them pet her ears, which are remarkably soft. And eventually, she falls asleep right after eating her yalmor-fat-and-food-goo supper, curled up on the floor next to Hunk, who’s lying on his stomach to play whatever that game is with Pidge and Lance. It could be worse. 

And it gets worse, since it turns out sleep loss is absolutely part of the deal. The pup falls asleep at what seems like a reasonable hour, so they carry her to her deck and shut the door. But apparently that is an unacceptable move, since they’re subjected to the most piercing sound Keith has ever heard some time around first varga.

“I thought you said they were supposed to be guard dogs,” he says as he gets to the door to the hyrassie’s deck and sees Coran there as well, Allura a few steps behind him. “Shouldn’t she be fine on her own?” 

“They weren’t like this on Altea,” Coran sounds baffled, though Keith can’t tell how much of it comes from being awakened in the middle of the night and how much from Turnip not fitting his expectations. “They must have changed somehow." Keith bites back some choice words at that -- of course they've changed; it's been centuries. Shit changes in centuries. 

"We should consider alternatives," says Allura, as the sound that can only be described as keening continues from behind the door. If anything it's growing louder -- with those ears, the hyrassie can probably hear every word they're saying. There’s no point in acting like she’s not going to notice that they’re awake and around -- and if he has to listen to that sound for any longer, he’s going to lose any semblance of control over his mouth or his actions. Keith gestures at the control panel of the door, and it slides open. The Alteans’ protestations are drowned out for the split second it takes for the animal to realize the door’s open, and then she stops. 

“-- supposed to train them to self-soothe!” Keith turns to Coran at that, and he doesn’t care that every bit of his annoyance and frustration must show on his face.

“She’s clearly not self-soothing,” he whispers hotly, then turns to the open door, where Turnip has stood up from where she was apparently lying dejected on one of the cushions they’ve arrayed around the room. She stretches, bending down on her front two sets of legs as she reaches the third pair behind her one at a time. Then she straightens, rolling her shoulders before bounding over toward them, both tails waving frantically. She reaches Keith first, and he sighs, dropping down to one knee and holding out his hands so she can snuffle at them happily, still wagging so hard he’s afraid one or both of her tails are going to get injured somehow. He runs his fingers through the fur on her head before scooping her up and handing her to Coran, who thankfully manages to hang onto her despite still looking somewhat bewildered. “You’re going to need to have her sleep in your quarters instead.” 

“Wha -- but I have work to do in the mornings, I can’t have her following me around.” he trails off as Turnip wriggles in his arms, trying to get one of her legs angled up so she can scratch at an ear. The look of helplessness on Coran’s face as he tries to support the hyrassie as she moves is almost enough to cheer Keith up despite the fact it’s the middle of the night and somehow the three of them are the only ones who responded to the screeching. He looks over at Allura, eyebrows raised in a question, but she shakes her head, eyes wide. He sighs; it’s not her fault they have the little menace. 

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll take her for tonight, but tomorrow she gets to stay with Lance. I’m not the one who insisted we needed a puppy.” 

Coran carries her back to his room, at least, freeing Keith up to grab one of the floor cushions they’ve got for her. In the end, though, the cushion is pointless. She’s on his bed before he even manages to crawl into it, and no matter how many times he lifts her off and puts her gently onto the floor, she jumps back up with minimal effort. After a half a dozen times of this, he gives up.

“Don’t you dare snore,” he says, pulling the blankets so they’ll come out from where they’re bunched over her and lying down with them pulled up to his chin. “And don’t get used to this -- we’ll figure something else out in the morning.” He feels one of her tails thump against the bed a few times in answer. 


	3. Chapter 3

Keith sleeps terribly, of course. She’s warm, for one thing, so temperature regulation is next to impossible. And any time he moves she moves too -- at one point ending up draped over his legs, which would maybe be fine, if it didn’t mean they were trapped. When she starts whining around fourth varga, he supposes he must have fallen asleep at some point, since that’s the only explanation for the groggy way he’s dragging himself into consciousness now. 

“Yeah, alright,” he grumbles when she steps her front paws onto his back and sticks a very cold nose against his ear to whine directly into it. “I get it.” He carefully extracts himself from under her, moving her to the side of his bunk that’s against the wall, and sits up, scrubbing at sleep-heavy eyes. Folding his legs under him, he turns to look back at her. “I guess you probably need to pee, huh.” As if in answer, the hyrassie leaps over his lap and to the door to his quarters, whining again. Before she can escalate to anywhere near the shrieking sound they had to contend with last night, he makes a gesture at the control panel so the door will slide open, and she dashes out. “Oh, shit,” he mutters -- right. A leash would have probably been a good idea. 

He follows the faint sound of whining and catches up to her at the entrance to her deck -- thankfully on the same level of the castle as the paladins’ quarters; they made a good choice there -- where she’s scratching at the door with two hoofed feet and the whining is threatening to grow again. 

“Shh, shh,” Keith mutters at her, and activates the panel to let her in, grateful that she came straight here when the entire castle could theoretically have been accessible. The first thing he does once he follows her into the deck -- Turnip practically flying to the patch of grass -- is go to the chest of essentials they’ve set up by the door and stick a lead in his pocket. Sure, he can probably just carry her to the lounge to hang out until the others get up, but if there’s any hope of not being stuck there until someone comes to take over, he should probably try to get a leash on her. Keith is musing over the harness and collar options that Coran seems to have dug up from the castle’s recesses when he hears the door swish open again and looks up to see Shiro standing in it, looking a little too casually curious. 

“How’s she doing?” he asks immediately, and not at all casually.

“See for yourself,” Keith says with a shrug, trying to work out how the straps of the harness he’s holding are supposed to go around a six-legged animal. He may as well have not said anything, though, since Shiro is already halfway across the room and kneeling on the ground, with both hands outstretched. Turnip, seeing him and having apparently taken care of any business she needed to attend to, races over joyfully, before stopping abruptly and jerking her head back slightly from his right arm. Slowly, she moves her nose closer to it, investigating. Shiro waits, not moving, whispering reassurances to her until her tails give a low wag, and then scratching her under the chin with his hand. She tentatively licks at the metal fingers of it, and he grins down at her. Keith is surprised to find he’s grinning, also, given how crappy he feels overall. 

\--

They try keeping her in Shiro’s quarters that night. He’s adamant that they should crate train her -- everything he’s read says it’s best practice, apparently, and Keith can’t help but support that option given the uncomfortable sleepless hours when she was on his bed. He’s a bit surprised that Lance doesn’t demand she stay with _him_ , but apparently even just hearing about the fit she threw in the middle of the night is enough to deter him. He does volunteer to go with Coran to find something suitable for the pup to sleep in, though, which Keith hopes means he feels at least a bit responsible. 

“Looks like we’re all set,” Shiro says as Coran clicks the last support of the crate into place. It looks remarkably like an ordinary dog crate, to Keith at least, and they’ve put one of the cushions in it to try to make it more homey.

“Sure hope so,” he says, shooting Coran a look he hopes will be interpreted correctly as a reminder that he’s not going to take sole responsibility for the hyrassie pup overnight again. The Altean gives him the tiniest of nods in response and stands, dusting off his hands and looking over at Shiro. 

“It should be just fine, I think, especially if you give her a couple of those treats Hunk whipped up this afternoon -- the boy’s a wizard in the kitchen, especially with baking -- reminds me of my cousin Ira.” Lance, who Keith would normally expect to be annoyed at too much commentary from Coran, just smiles instead. 

“He sure is,” he says, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket and leaning against the wall by the door back out to the hallway. “You know he’s _this_ close to figuring out sourdough biscuits? Like, perfect ones, I mean, since obviously even the quote-unquote failed attempts --” he’s mercifully cut off from continuing by a tone announcing there’s someone at the door. 

“That’ll be him and Pidge,” says Shiro, gesturing at the door panel to let them in, one sleepy hyrassie pup in tow. They coax her toward the crate, Hunk pulling out a couple of crunchy-looking treats that smell good enough that Keith almost wants to eat them himself. Almost. Luckily, they seem to smell even better to Turnip since she extends her head as far as she can to sniff at them as Hunk moves them toward her crate. When she walks in, she settles down almost immediately to demolish the treats, which sound as crunchy as they look, Keith lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and Shiro grins at all of them. 

“Well, that’s settled,” he says, waving them toward the door. “Goodnight, everyone.” 

And Keith is relieved to find himself in his quarters with no wriggly puppy and no shrieking, just peace and quiet. He climbs into bed, grateful that at least if his sleep is disturbed tonight, it’ll be by the usual suspects, rather than an all-too-present animal. 

Or so he thinks. Instead, he nearly knocks his head against the wall next to his bunk when he’s awakened again by that same shrieking sound. Looking at the timekeeper by his bed, he sees that at least it’s a bit after fourth varga instead of first, but he’s still not exactly thrilled. Where is Shiro that he’s not already handling this? Keith shoves his face into his pillow, pulling his blankets up around his head to block out the noise as best he can. Shiro will take care of it, he thinks. He probably got woken up just now, also, so it’ll just take him a second to get the crate open and get Turnip to her deck...but the sound keeps going on, and when he can’t take it anymore, he rolls out of bed, grabs his jacket from its hook, and shakes his head a bit to clear it before heading down the hall to Shiro’s quarters. 

Weirdly, he’s the only one of the paladins who seems to have noticed the sound. He can understand how it happened the first night -- since his room is closest to the deck they’ve set up for Turnip, with the Alteans’ quarters on the other side -- but shouldn’t at least Pidge have heard something? When he gets to Shiro’s door, he pokes a hand at the panel irritably. She’s still just keening away in there, which -- he notes as the door slides open -- doesn’t seem like something Shiro would just let continue. 

“Keith, what’s up?” Shiro’s voice comes from his bunk, where -- Keith can see from the light spilling in from the hallway -- he’s still at least half-asleep. 

“What do you mean, what’s up?” he asks, frowning. “Can I -- please --” he doesn’t wait for an answer, going straight to the crate in the corner of the room and opening it to release a highly relieved puppy. He picks her up quickly, before she can dart out of the room or -- worse -- pee on the floor. “She’s been screaming for like, ten minutes.” 

“She has?” 

“Did you not...did you not hear her?” 

“I haven’t heard anything.” Shiro sits up, picking up the timekeeper next to his bed and squinting at it, frowning in the dim light. “I’d be up in like half a varga anyway, but..” He trails off, and Keith is still a bit too stunned by a new realization to say anything for a moment. It’s just his luck that the new puppy -- a puppy he did not ask for, important to note -- apparently cries at some frequency full humans can’t hear. 

“Just another joy of being part-galra, I guess,” he mutters, as Turnip happily nuzzles at his hand before licking it. He grimaces, wishing he’d grabbed his gloves. “I’m gonna take her to her deck.” 

“Yeah, go for it -- I’ll meet you there in a couple minutes -- dobashes -- whatever.” 

She’ll have to sleep in his room, Keith realizes as he walks her down to the door to her deck. Allura has the mice, and Coran has already said no once. He draws a bit of comfort from knowing that at least she’ll be in a crate from now on, even if it does mean he’ll be getting up a couple vargas earlier than he usually would. 

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he mutters as he gestures the door open and lets her down to race over to the miniature Altean field. 

\--

Lance helps him move the crate later that morning, once the rest of the castle residents are up. They don’t bother folding it up again, carrying it between the two of them down the hallway. It’s awkward and heavy, and Keith is grateful for his gloves keeping it from digging into his hands too uncomfortably. 

“Can’t believe you’re stealing my puppy,” Lance says, a hint of a whine creeping into his voice. Keith can see the corners of his mouth twitching too, though, and he lets out a small huff of amusement. 

“Stealing, my ass,” he says. He gestures at the control panel as they approach his door, and adds, “I didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“Stealing her right out from under me,” Lance continues dramatically as they put the crate down in the corner of the room. He opens the door to it and resettles the cushion inside. “Like some kind of...puppy-smuggler. Thief.” 

“You didn’t even like her when we brought her back,” Keith says, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice. It’s creeping in anyway, though, he can hear it. 

“So my judgment slipped for, like, a second!” Lance stands up, dusting off his hands so he can prop them on his hips indignantly. “That’s no reason to steal a man’s dog!” 

“I can’t even steal her long-term, not if I’m getting back to Blades training next week -- movement -- whatever.” He hopes that will settle it. Can’t steal something if you’re not here to keep it. 

“What’s gonna stop you from just taking off to the Blades, puppy in tow, huh? I bet that guy --- Kolivan -- would be all for having a deer-puppy-shark on the team. You’ll raise her up to be her own canine special ops unit, and then where will I be? Puppyless! A broken shell of a man!” 

“God, you’re ridiculous,” Keith says, rolling his eyes as he heads back out into the hallway and starts walking away. “You coming to the lounge to see your dog one last time before I steal her away forever?” He hears Lance slide the door shut behind him, and he catches up a few seconds later. 

“Keith, seriously, you better not monopolize her time now. Like, I was joking back there, you know I was joking, but you can’t just take over, like, she’s all of ours, you know that, right? Just because she’s sleeping in your room doesn’t mean she’s more yours than the rest of us, and --” They’ve reached the lounge, and as he gestures the door open, Keith is incredibly relieved that the rest of Lance’s words are drowned out by a gleefully yipping puppy, who is decidedly not going to be his sole responsibility from now on, as if that would even be a desirable outcome. 

\--

“I’m not sure we’re ever going to be able to just give her free run of the castle,” Hunk is saying later that afternoon as he gathers up the pieces of yet another chew toy Turnip has shredded mercilessly with her razor teeth. “Not if this level of destruction is any indication.” 

“I mean, she is a puppy,” Shiro says, grinning from where he’s sitting on the floor against the couch, Turnip curled up napping in his lap. Her middle set of legs jerks every once in a while, and she’s growled at least three times in her sleep so far. Katie wonders idly if there’s a reason it’s the middle set of legs, or if it’s just that the back ones are folded under her and too squished to be a part of it. “She might grow out of some of it.” 

“I don’t know about that.” Hunk shakes his head a little, dropping the pieces in a waste chute at the corner of the lounge and dusting off his hands. “They’re supposed to keep needing to chew, like, forever. And a lot.” 

“It seems like if we give her enough alternatives, we should at least be able to keep the important machinery and stuff safe,” says Katie, grabbing her tablet from beside the couch she’s sitting on and opening a note. “Do we have any toys she _hasn’t_ destroyed?” 

“Uh, a few, but a lot of those even are hanging on by a thread.” Hunk wrinkles his nose, sitting down on the couch next to her so he can see the tablet screen. “Like, the one ring seems like it’s holding up mostly okay, but even that’s got some divots starting from her teeth.” 

“Seems like we should figure out what that’s made of and go from there,” Katie says. “You good here, Shiro? Hunk and I should probably go down to the lab.” 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Shiro says in a tone that suggests it’s a bit absurd to think they’d be anything but. He scratches behind Turnip’s ears gently. “Besides, Lance at least said he’d stop by once they’re done on the training deck. By all means, go do some R&D.” 

\--

By the time Keith gets the call from Kolivan that he needs to start a new phase of training, they’ve fallen into a routine. Turnip sleeps through nearly to fifth varga before she starts whining, and he manages to get enough shuteye that that’s not the nightmare it could be. He doesn’t need all that much, anyway, as long as it’s relatively peaceful. 

They’re never alone on her deck for long. Even if he can’t hear Turnip wake up, Shiro can certainly hear Keith, and he usually shows up just as Turnip is finished relieving herself and ready to play, which works out well for everyone involved, especially with the nigh-indestructible toys Hunk and Pidge manage to produce. It’s just a few at first -- a rope toy of extra-strong fibers, a ring with some give in it that she somehow can’t rip through -- but pretty soon it becomes a game of who can come up with and produce the best designs that are also functional. 

One evening, the night before Keith is going to rejoin the Blades for a while, Hunk comes into the lounge holding a nondescript bag. Everyone’s off-duty at the same time, for once, since the bridge is automatically retuning its maintenance protocols, and he stands in front of them looking utterly triumphant. 

“Gotta say, I’m particularly proud of this one,” he says, then makes a dramatic fanfare sound with his mouth as he pulls something out of the bag. 

“Was that supposed to be a trumpet?” Keith asks.

“It’s clearly not a trumpet, Keith. It’s a cow.” Lance manages to sound both dismissive and slightly awestruck at the same time. 

“That’s a pretty incredible likeness, Hunk,” says Shiro, still holding the other end of a rope Turnip is pulling at enthusiastically, seemingly unaware that any conversation they’re having has anything to do with her. 

“Isn’t this a toy for her to chew on?” Allura sounds somewhat baffled. 

“I mean, yeah,” says Hunk, frowning at the cow in his hands. “That’s the idea. I used a new polymer we developed that’s firmer than the first one -- less give, more for dental care than general play -- that’s why there’s this texturing for her teeth.” He indicates one of the legs of the cow, where he’s shaped ridges and spikes that do seem to approximate a toothbrush. If a toothbrush also kind of resembled a medieval morningstar.

“And it’s made to look like another living creature? One we ideally...don’t want her chewing on? Wasn’t the idea that they might be friends?” 

“Oh, I forgot about that,” says Lance. 

“You forgot you got us all into this by claiming you were some kind of cow-whisperer?” Pidge sounds as amazed by Lance’s lack of recall as Keith is. 

“I never said cow-whisperer!” Lance objects. “I said she needed a puppy friend. All cows need a puppy friend; it’s a fact of life.” 

“Shall we go introduce her to our fair lady Kaltenecker, then?” Coran slaps his knees twice and stands up, stretching. As if in answer, Turnip races over to Hunk and leaps toward the cow toy, snatching it out of his hand and giving it an emphatic shake when she lands back on the ground, growling. 

“Maybe we wait until she’s slightly less puppy,” says Hunk, inspecting his hand carefully for injury. “Maybe what Kaltenecker really needs is a calm adult dog friend.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who followed along with this! That's all for now, but Turnip may well show up in some more works at some point...I've grown a bit fond of her ^^;


End file.
